Memory Wash
by RogueRaven21
Summary: RvB As Delta said  repeatedly  "Memory is the key" This has become a collection of Agent Washington's memories of his time with Project Freelancer both from before Reconstruction and beyond.
1. Lesson Learned

Wasn't planning on writing anything from Wash's perspective, but he got into my head. My thanks go to my awesome people on the Rooster Teeth Forum for giving this a looksy. Thanks to my own Church for the title, and for the amazing RvB art work he does on DA.

Based this on a remark Tex made in Out of Mind ("You shouldn't even be here") and that before Reconstruction, Wash and Church had never met, even though Church had, at very least, heard of the Freelancer. Started thinking about why that was and now here it is for your reading pleasure!

* * *

She had her battle rifle disassembled for cleaning in a quiet alcove of the primary training compound. There probably wouldn't be a safer time to approach the deadly woman.

"Hey Tex."

"Hey Wash." She didn't look up from her work. Some would consider her rude, but he knew she did it because he didn't register as a threat to her.

"Where's your blue shadow?"

**That** made her look up. "Excuse me?"

"The annoying walking target who keeps following you around. Where is he?" Washington had grown curious about the seemingly random soldier who managed to always be around Tex, even in special clearance areas.

The black armoured Freelancer stood up excruciatingly slowly and came up to Wash until they were standing almost visor-to-visor. The next thing he knew, he was flat on his ass and seeing stars.

"Talk about him like that again and you'll regret the day you were born." Tex sneered. "No one, and I mean NO ONE talks about him like that but me."

"I'll keep that in mind." He managed to sound collected even though the room still seemed to be spinning. She had one hell of a right hook.

"Get out," she snarled. "And stay the fuck away from him, Wash, or I'll gut you before you can scream. You get me?"

"Yeah, I get you, but I have to wonder: what is it about him that's so worth protecting?" He got to his feet and glanced back, only to receive the cold emotionless stare of her visor. After a long moment, he decided he'd pushed his luck far enough for one day and left. As he walked away, still fighting the spinning sensation, he pondered his own question. What was so special about that one soldier? Some how, he would find out.


	2. Graduation Memory

A/N: This is a collaborative effort with Regnasis on Deviantart's "Granduation" picture. Another memory of Wash's he keeps sharing with me, so I'll keep writing. Unfortunately, Regnasis can draw far far faster then I can write, type and edit a fic. We have already started working on another collab piece, once again involving Wash. So enjoy! And still don't own RvB, I has a sad

* * *

Washington hated being in the medical wing of Command; it always brought back memories of Epsilon's final days. A time that left the Freelancer a mental mess and had him sectioned 12-ed. This time, however, he had some very different, but just as haunting memories to keep him company.

He didn't think any copies of the old picture still existed, but then York always had been the sentimental one of the group. While prepping Delta during the recovery, Wash had caught sight of the singed paper next to the locksmith's body and salvaged it on a whim.

The still shot seemed older then the few years it was from all the charring, dirt and even a bullet hole in one corner. It was a testament to the lives they had lived.

North, South, himself, Tex, York, Wyoming and Maine on the day they graduated from the Freelancer Program. Before the AI implantation when they had still been the best of friends. They were going to be the ones who won the war. Where others had failed, they would succeed. The Freelancers were the best soldiers the UNSC had to offer short of a SPARTAN.

They had all looked so young, so hopeful. Now North, Tex, York and Wyoming were all dead; South and Maine were AWOL; and Wash recovering from being shot in the back by the woman he had gone out of his way to save.

South…she had been so different back then, before the distribution of the AIs. Being passed over in favor of her brother in the first wave had left her angry and bitter. The incident with Epsilon had given her a focus of that anger. That had become clear before she'd shot him.

He allowed himself to muse that he really, really shouldn't have slept with CT while still technically seeing South. The one night kept popping back up and biting him in the ass.

CT, now she was a piece of work. She was a manipulative, lying, backstabbing, catty, and violent bitch but with a body that more then made up for her personality. Out of the armour, she was fit, glamourously beautiful and, even he had to admit, she was racked. How she not only got in the armour, but also passed herself as male, Wash would never know.

She had approached him after a fight with South. The twin thing always came up with them. South would be in a position where she had to choose between North and Wash, and she always, always chose North, much to Wash's ever increasing annoyance. CT had somehow convinced him with a half a bottle of Jack Daniels and purred words to go back to her quarters that evening. She had promised it would be a secret just between the two of them, no one would ever know. Until the next day when South got back and CT told her to her face what had happened along with telling the rest of their little circle.

Maine had laughed himself sick at the whole situation. Then again, the smart ass was almost always laughing at something, even back in their ODST days. The women, Reggie's accent, Wash's problems, Tex's blue shadow, even himself. He'd thought it was great when they found out after getting the pictures back, Maine had moved at the last second to give Wash rabbit ears and appeared in the picture as a blur. They never had time to take another picture, and after implantation nothing had been the same.

Folding up the worn picture, Wash let a bittersweet smile cross his face. Life had a way of making a person eventually stop and remember everything normally kept locked away. He found his thoughts going to Epsilon and couldn't help but envy the Alpha, wherever it was. It would always be separated from its memories, both the painful and the sweet.

The Freelancer couldn't help but think that depending on the type of life lived, it really wasn't that steep of a price to pay for having all the past wiped away. He decided then if he ever had the chance to start over, he would.

Like that would ever happen.


	3. Shattered Memory

A/N: Another collaboration with Regnasis on DeviantArt, this time I beat him to posting LOL. More from Wash, he just keeps sharing. Thanks goes to Martienne for the review, it's good to know those 4 years and 20 grand didn't go to complete waste ^_^. And as always my thanks to my Church for being himself and giving me feedback and more ideas. So enjoy!

* * *

Washington tried to think positively. He had all but single handedly brought down Project Freelancer. The nightmare that he and his friends had been forced to endure would never happen to anyone else. Maine had been wiped of all the AI fragments and, Wash had been informed, was recovering 'nicely'.

However, the sparse cell he currently occupied steadfastly reminded him that he had still wound up in prison. That fact kept managing to kill his barely optimistic mood.

Sighing, the disgraced soldier stood up from his thin cot and made his way over to the stainless steel sink. Splashing cold water on his face he felt a patch of stubble, and opened his eyes to check it.

The man that stared back at through the mirror startled him. He didn't recognize the old, tired, worn out soldier he saw. It couldn't have been him; he was too young to be so gray, so lined, so scarred.

It hadn't been that many years since he had been the top ODST soldier in his entire platoon. He had thrown himself into any fight, and with Maine backing him up, nothing could stop them. They were better than any SPARTAN freak and more than happy to prove it to the whole damn UNSC. He had been ecstatic when the orders came down that he and Maine had been hand selected for a top-secret project key in winning the war.

It didn't take long for Wash and Maine to become friends with the easy going York, cunning Wyoming, and the beautiful Tex. He couldn't lie to himself; he'd found the fiery woman incredibly attractive, but then any male with pulse would have thought that.

Then the Dakotas joined their circle and Wash fell for the spirited and spunky South the moment she walked through the doors. Their downtime became the stuff of Command legend with many, many close calls in the barracks and broom closets. North and Maine covered for them more often then they probably should have, but at the time Wash didn't care.

He knew now it would have never lasted between them, but back then he was convinced he'd die happy if she was the last woman he was ever with.

Unfortunately, she wasn't. The women of Project Freelancer openly despised each other. The guys often mused that throwing Tex, South, CT and Carolina in one room and locking the door would bring about the complete and utter destruction of the entire universe. They were always finding a way to undercut each other, hiding the maliciousness behind the competitive edge they were encouraged to maintain. CT was the worst of all of them and she hated Tex more then anything. She wouldn't risk the Director's wrath going after the red head, so she turned her sites on South.

Wash closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cold glass. He had been so stupid back then, so gullible. The pointless fight with South gave CT the perfect opportunity to strike at the brunette woman in such a way that would damage her far worse than any physical blow.

He had known CT's reputation, hell everyone did. He'd ribbed Maine hardcore when the story started circulating that the dyed blond beauty had gotten him and North in her bed…at the same time. Maine had refused to confirm or deny the story. That alone should have been reason for Wash to hesitate when she had offered to pour him a glass. And then another and another until over half the damn bottle was gone.

If he hadn't been so preoccupied with trying to get South to just listen to him, he probably would have killed Maine for being a royal asshole and making Wash's life that much worse.

Then the AI implantation annihilated the already fracturing circle of friends. The ties of family, friend, comrade and even his very mind were destroyed beyond all repair. Because of his AI, Wash couldn't even look at Tex in the end. She had been the only one of the women who had remained neutral when the others had turned against him.

Epsilon shared far more with the Freelancer then just the memories of the horrible things they had done to break the Alpha. He didn't realize just how merged their minds were until shortly after the initial implantation. Wash had been walking through the locker room when he heard a shower running. He didn't think anything of it until he saw Tex's locker open. Suddenly, he was assaulted by the phantom feeling of the red head's legs locked around his waist as he braced her back against the cold blue tiles of their old apartment's pathetic excuse of a shower.

If was the first time his friends found him on his knees, clutching his skull and screaming at Epsilon to get out of his head. It wouldn't be the last.

He could no longer separate his memories of South from Epsilon's memories of Tex and that made any reconciliation with the purple armoured woman impossible, even if she hadn't been ignoring his entire existence. The problems with his AI made the Director halt the next wave of implantations until a 'suitable solution could be found'. When the unraveling AI found its own solution in the form of mental suicide, the whole program was put on hold.

Still stinging from Wash's betrayal, North getting Theta instead of her, South began to openly blame the former ODST for everything in her life that had become derailed. She may have always been as manipulative and backstabbing as CT, but it wasn't until then she stopped trying to control those aspects of her personality.

Recovering from the forcible removal of Epsilon, Wash had spent the time contemplating his relationship all the while still trying to sort out what had actually happened to him and what wasn't just someone else's memory. He became angry at South for not listening, not even hearing his side. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

When he saw her again, the day he responded to North's recovery beacon, all the anger had disappeared and all he saw was the spirited woman he loved. It didn't last but a minute, the venom in her voice told him she still hated him, but even then he had tried to save her. All he got in return was betrayal and a bullet in the back.

He hadn't wanted to kill her. Part of him, despite everything, still loved her but he knew Delta was right and the next time she would make sure he didn't survive.

At least he kept his word and gave her the clean, quick death with the handgun. The night the circle of friends had graduated from the final program selection they had all promised that if they ever had to take another Freelancer out, they'd make sure it was with the handgun.

Still, Wash knew a part of his soul died when he pulled the trigger. He had killed before, he was a soldier, and it came with the job. Killing South, though, had felt like Epsilon's suicide and in that moment he wished he had died with the AI.

Wash looked at himself in the mirror again and saw how much of his life had been taken from him. He had lost his youth, his sanity, his career, his love, and ultimately his freedom for a program that had no impact on winning the war in the end.

He hated the Director for everything he had done, hated Epsilon for ruining his memories, CT for tearing he and South apart, South for betraying him, and finally, himself for everything he had done and failed to do. Rage filled him as thought of the lost years he could never get back and the long years of incarceration ahead of him.

Letting out a guttural roar of all his frustration, anger and grief, he let his fist fly into the mirror. The glass shattered and in the fragments he saw his whole life broken and wasted.

"What happened down there?" The guard's voice echoed through the cellblock.

"It's nothing." Wash heard himself say aloud as he pulled his fist away from the destroyed mirror. He meant the sum of his life, but the guard took it as an answer to his question. In the quiet that followed, Wash could hear the radio buzz.

"Hey Washington, you've got a call." The guard said approaching the former Freelancer's cell.

An idea of who would even be trying to get a hold of him by means of a call nagged at him and suddenly he had the feeling that maybe, just maybe he wasn't done yet. Mentally picking himself up, Wash walked away from the mirror. He was still angry, still bitter but with a renewed sense of duty. He wasn't defeated yet and now he found focus on finding a way to get back the only thing left he could reclaim: his freedom.


	4. Just Another Day

Another Wash memory, this time expanding on a line in Shattered Memory. As usual, my thanks to my Church for being awesome and I still don't own RvB. siiiiiiigh

* * *

Agent Washington checked the chrono on his gauntlet and grinned. He was pushing it, but at the pace he navigated the maze-like halls of Freelancer Command, he would slide into the conference room just as the Director started the briefing. The soldier reached his destination, but froze at the sound of angry female voices that emerged when he began opening the heavy door.

"Well maybe it's because CT is just a fucking TRAMP!"

"At least I know what I'm doing!"

"You would, wouldn't you?"

"I'm doing better then you, Miss One-Blue-Hit-Wonder!"

"You're all a bunch of skanks!"

"Oh shut up Carolina! You're not as innocent as you want everyone-"

Washington very, very quietly closed the door and went outside to find Maine, York, Wyoming, North, and the Director scattered around the portal.

"I apologize, I didn't think they would all show up at the same time." Dr. Church drawled, offering a cigarette to Wash.

"Anyone try to stop them?" The former ODST settled down on the low wall beside Maine and accepted the offered light.

York sighed. "You know, I don't even want to try."

"If you think I'm going in there, you're mad!" Wyoming declared, his pipe carefully cradled in his palm, his posture suggesting ye olde English nobility.

Maine tried to laugh at Reggie and ended up choking on a lungful of smoke, sending him into a coughing fit.

After slapping his best friend on the back a few times, Wash glanced over at North. "What about you? Can't you talk South down?"

"You want my opinion? Lock the door and hope their combined fury obliterates the galaxy and we don't have to worry about it." North stated coldly, staring the other man down. The two weren't exactly friendly given Wash's new sleeping arrangements with South.

All six turned to look at the door when the echoes of a splintering crash reached them.

The Director sighed. "I hate it when Texas decides to make weapons out of the furniture. Our budget is tight enough as it is without her destructive tendencies."

York raised an eyebrow. "It's starting to sound like North has the right idea."

Dr. Church pushed his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I'm starting to agree."

The door slammed open, making them all jump, and the one and only Tex stormed out. Muttering under her breath, passed them all without looking at anyone.

"Agent Texas, our briefing?" The Director ventured.

The red head became silent as she stopped and turned her emerald glare on him.

"Will be in fifteen minutes." Dr. Church said smoothly after regaining his composer.

After she marched away into the courtyard, Wyoming shook his head and pocketed his pipe. "She is quite something else. I suppose I should see how many medics we need for the others." The older Freelancer turned to walk back into the building, North, York and Maine following behind.

Wash started to turn, but stopped when he noticed the Director still watching the armour clad woman as she spoke to the mysterious Blue simulation trooper that lingered around the base. "Is something wrong, sir?"

"No, Agent Washington, I was just thinking how little some people change." Dr. Church mused quietly.

"Sir?"

The Director turned then, a sad smile in place. He put a hand on Wash's shoulder and steered him to the door. "Never mind, David, just remember that we can never outrun our memories."

The solder only nodded. Washington wondered what the he had meant but knew better then to press for details. It was just one more unknown revolving around the beautiful Tex.


End file.
